


Welcome To the Madhouse

by Darkwolfthewriter (Darkshardthedestroyer)



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is Batman, F/M, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Selina Kyle is Catwoman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkshardthedestroyer/pseuds/Darkwolfthewriter
Summary: Bruce Wayne was always destined to be the Batman. But in some universes, he had a much more humorous comeuppance
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Welcome To the Madhouse

Good reviews be darned. Eight year old Bruce Wayne hated the the Gotham Cancer Center for Children the minute he stepped foot through the sliding glass front doors. The place was too bright, and clearly designed to be appealing to children. But not even the painted wall murals of anthropomorphic giraffes and elephants shouting speech bubbles of encouragement could be seen as anything but demeaning.

Despite countless protests, his parents had insisted that being around other kids like him would be good for him. Not to mention any emergencies could be handled by highly qualified staff at a moment's notice.

Bruce didn't want to be around other sick kids. Bruce wanted to be home.

Thomas Wayne didn't budge on his decision, however. All his son had done was sulk since the doctors diagnosed him with astrocytoma nearly four weeks ago. The first round of chemo looked like it had done well, but a second was still up in the air. Until more tests were done, Bruce wasn't yet declared to be in remission.

While Martha had been hesitant to send her son to a cancer home, Thomas could personally vouch for it. He'd operated on several young patients staying there, getting sterling reviews from the kids he'd spoken with.

The beauty of the system was the interaction between the kids. Private rooms were reserved for children with compromised immune systems, and those who were less sick or not at risk of keeling over from a common cold lived in a dorm style room. Thomas watched his son cross his arms and glower at the room now to be his home. The blue walls were ugly, despite the whimsical clouds painted near the ceiling border and rolling green hills added for affect. The lights were too bright, making the metal bed frames glint unnaturally. There were no kids in right now, save for one young boy in the back with his nose buried in a phone.

There was a small lounge of bean bags and a coffee table in the back right, the rest of the room lined with beds sporting unchanging white sheets. Silently, Bruce stowed the measly amount of personal belongings in the square metal trunk at the base of the bed he'd been assigned, pushing the now empty suitcase away with his foot and sitting with his back to his parents pointedly.

"Bruce..."

His father's attempt at encouragement fell on selectively deaf ears. His mom hugged him. He didn't hug back. His dad patted his shoulder. He shrugged the hand off.

"-be back."

 _Yeah sure._ The distraught eight year old grouched more to himself than anyone.

Bruce wasn't sure much time had fallen through the cracks before a young freckled face was hesitantly peering at him from two beds over. It wasn't the kid from earlier, who'd had his nose buried in a phone. It was one who'd popped in some time later.

"Hi."

Bruce startled, so wrapped up in his cloak of self misery that he'd not even noticed the arrival. Scowling, he looked away, not interested in engaging in something as mundane as small talk.

"I'm Joseph. Joseph Kerr. You can call me Joe." the seven year old stated proudly.

"And I'm not interested." Bruce replied flatly, flopping back on his bed and rolling so his back was to the kid. It, however, didn't rattle the him very much.

"No, you're Bruce. Bruce Wayne. It's what the plate at the end of your bed said. Did you bring any games? I'm bored."

"No."

"Oh..." He hoped the kid had gotten the memo and decided to go away. "That's too bad. The play room has some stuff, but it gets old fast... unless you like barbies. They have more barbies than legos. It's boring. And the TV just plays looney tunes on repeat. I've seen 'em all at least ten times."

"TT."

"And all the girls wanna do is braid hair and talk about sitcoms. Sometimes we play hide and go seek, but the nurses don't let us go in all the good places. So..."

"Have you not figured out that I'm not interested?" Bruce asked dryly.

"I have. But my parents say... _said_ I have a magnetic personality." Joseph replied with a shrug. "I figured you'll get tired of me rambling and either punch me like the others do, or stop moping."

Bruce quirked an eyebrow and finally turned to face the kid. He screamed nerdy, a pair of square wire frame glasses shoved on his nose, wild untamed green hair nearly dancing in his eyes. It was a wig, but toxic green wasn't it's original color. The few strands of coppery red hair indicating someone had gotten to the fake hair with dye.

He could see why some kid might get tired of listening to him ramble and throw a punch in the mix.

"You could start by losing the wig." Bruce pointed out. "If you want kids to stop hitting you."

Joseph got a sour look on his face, fingers rubbing through the waxy strands of fake hair. "It used to look like my real hair, but a practical joker decided to steal it... broke into the janitor's closet and had a field day. I got him back before they kicked him out. So now I'm the practical joker. Works to because Jo-seph ker-r."

Bruce chuckled at the name.

"So will you help me find something to do?"

The eight year old son of a billionaire breathed out, weighing his options. He could sit here and feel sorry for himself, or keep an eye on Joe. It was clear the poor guy wasn't the most beloved kid around the block, and while Bruce couldn't host many fighting skills, he was a green belt in karate. Before finding something to do, he needed to scope the area out.

"Okay. But first you have to give me a tour."

When Joseph beamed, Bruce briefly wondered just what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

"-and the girl's dorm is down that hall. We aren't allowed down there, and they aren't allowed down our hall. The Cafeteria's in there, and the play room is back there. They have classes some days, but since it's summer, we don't gotta worry about that."

Joseph shoved his glasses back up his nose as Bruce peered into the play room. Four boys and three girls sat lounging around. Besides them, there were two toddlers, a boy and a girl, playing quietly with barbie dolls and action figures.

"It's not really busy right now. This is most of us." Joe said. "The kid back in the boy's dorm is Jason. He doesn't talk to anyone. Over there is Selina, there's Pamela, and that's Harleen. They don't talk to me very much. Honestly I'm surprised they're not back in the room braiding each other's hair. Then that's Edward... We call him eddy. The other kid he's sitting with is Oswald... we call him Ozzy cause... yeah." Joe leaned over conspiratorially. "The name is pretty awful. Victor's the one by himself in the corner. I heard he has this massive crush on the nurse named Nora... pretty funny. And that's Hugo. He's smarter than me."

Bruce took it all in.

"Hey guys!" Joseph called, fingers around his mouth to project his voice above bugs bunny's obnoxious drone on the TV. A collection of groans marked the point of every kid turning to face the two. "This is Bruce. He's new here."

Victor raised an eyebrow, not making any move to get up. He had a sketchbook on his lap, but nodded in greeting. Oswa- ahem... Ozzy, a heavyset kid with a pointed nose gave a slight wave and a toothy grin. It was Edward that approached.

"Hiya, Bruce. Care for a riddle?"

"Uh-"

"There's a green glass door, and only certain things can go thro-"

"Not now Eddy." Hugo cut in, waving the riddle loving nine year old off. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Have you ever heard of the laws of thermodynamics?"

"I-"

"But I want to tell him my riddle! It's a right of passage."

"Science first."

"Riddles _are_ a science! A science of intelligence!"

"Care to prove your hypothesis?"

Joseph grabbed Bruce by the back of his shirt and started dragging him towards the door backwards. "They get into this fight at least once a week. Let's go see if they're serving any grub in the cafeteria."

Soon they had small bowls of trailmix and orange juice, a small welcome gift from the cafeteria lady. They ate in companionable silence, Bruce mulling over ways to keep his promise to Joseph. He preferred reading to playing games, so he hadn't bothered to bring any such things with him. Apparently Joseph had forgotten all about the promise in favor of discussing hobbies.

"Do you ever read any comics?"

"I used to have a legend of Zorro comic, but my parents didn't approve."

"Oh. Have you ever thought about how cool it would be if those kinds of people existed?"

"Sure, a few times." Bruce admitted, popping a salty raisin from the mix in his mouth. "But-" Swallow. "I mean, come on. No one's gonna dress up in funny costumes and kick people's teeth in. Not for real."

"Well I know _that._ "

"Think of all the training it would take. I mean, a costume alone won't cut it. They'd have to be fast and strong, with all sorts of skills."

"Like how to fight!" Joe grinned, playfully boxing the air. He took on a sloppy British accent that sounded a lot like an Alfred imitation. "And brilliant detective skills."

Both boys burst into laughter.

"If I were a vigilante, my catch phrase would be... uh... the _joke's on you!"_

Bruce frowned thoughtfully. "I'd want mine to be serious. I mean, if I were gonna fight crime, I'd want the bad guys to be afraid of me... And I'd probably be fighting for a reason, possibly because I was wronged?"

"Seems to be the cliche."

"Okay. Now I'd probably work during the night when all the criminals come out... So my catch phrase would be... ah... never mind."

"No. Tell me!"

Bruce rubbed the back of his head. "It's kinda lame..."

"That's okay. Mine was literally the Joke's on you. It couldn't be lamer than _that._ "

"Alright alright. Ahem..." Bruce fought back the red tinge to his cheek. "I am vengeance. I _am the night!_ I am... uh..." He looked around for some help, but Joseph smirked.

"Batman."

"What?"

"Bats." Joseph expounded. They're kinda scary."

"Batman is so lame."

"Well so is the Joker... Hey, I just thought of something we could do to pass the time."

"Why do I have a feeling this entire conversation was a set up?"

* * *

Hugo strange looked up when he heard shouting coming from the dorm. Had the new kid already decided to take on the duty of tormenting Joe? He hoped not. The others may enjoy antagonizing the little book worm, but Hugo saw in him a kindred spirit with a love of learning. Cautiously, he set aside his book on thermodynamics and padded out of the play room. 

Ozzy, Victor, and Eddy were peering at the unfolding scene through the small window lodged in the metal door.

"Beware, Batman! I have a captive!" Joe cried out, holding up the pillow. Hugo winced. Someone had gotten a hold of a sharpie marker and drawn a sloppy face on the surface of the pillow case. If the nurses found out, there'd be heck to pay.

Bruce was standing on his bed, bouncing slightly, a black towel draped over his shoulders. "Let uh..." Bruce scratched the back of his head, then whispered- "What's her name?"

Joe shrugged. "How should I know?"

"You're the one who kidnapped her..." Joe shrugged and Bruce sighed. "Let Vikki Vale go, Joker!" Bruce- er Batman growled.

"Vikki vale? What kind of name is that?"

"I dunno. You weren't coming up with one. She's a reporter."

"Huh... okay. Ahem. I'll never let ms. Vale go! She's uncovered my darkest secret! My devious plan! Behold! My hot air balloon! With this, I'll unleash a deadly laughing gas on Gotham! Then I'll be the clown prince of crime,-"Bruce winced. It was corny at best, but then again... He was trying to save a pillow from the perilous jaws of a kid with freckles and a green wig. "-and all of Gotham will die of laughter! Bwahahaha!"

"I'll never let that happen." Bruce declared, waving his hand firmly and slipping into an official karate fighting stance, left leg in front facing forward and left back and aimed slightly to the side.

"I'd like to see you stop me, batsy!" Joe taunted gripping the pillow tighter and holding two fingers against the side.

Victor looked mildly amused, catching sight of Jason in the back of the room. He had sunken down low, pulling his hoodie up and cranking the music up to intolerable levels in some hope of drowning out the chaotic play fight unfolding across the bed tops.

"We need to get in on this." Eddy declared firmly.

"You're joking."

"Not at all, Vic. Beware, Gotham Cancer Center! The Riddler's in town."

"The Riddler?" Hugo blanched. "That's stupid."

"More stupid than batman?"

"Fair point."

* * *

Bruce and Joe found new Joker and Batman scenarios to engage themselves in for the rest of the afternoon until dinner was announced of the PA system. With every scenario, the Joker began taking on a more deranged and sinister character, while Bruce made the Batman a stern and fearful force to be reckoned with. Neither of them had noticed the audience, and neither of them were aware of the plotting going on in the background. 

At nine, every one was ushered off to bed by the nurses. The head nurse for the boy's sector, a guy named Floyd Lawton had personally overseen that all of them got in bed before turning the lights out and closing the door on his way out. The hallway lights blared in through the glass window in the door, and the window provided moonlight which bathed the room in a soft iridescent light.

Not thirty seconds after the door was closed, Eddy spoke up.

"So Bruce, got a riddle for ya."

"Ah Eddy. Go to sleep." Joe groaned, bed squeaking as he rolled over and tugged his Vikki Vale pillow over his head.

"No, it's okay." Bruce said in a hushed whisper.

"Sweet." Bruce didn't realize he'd walked into a trap.

"What is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end and the end of every race?"

Hugo rolled his eyes. No one aside from him actually had the mental capacity to figure that one out.

Bruce remained silent for a long time, massaging the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "The letter E. Goodnight Eddy."

"Night Bruce."

Edward smiled. He'd passed alright. Beware Gotham Cancer Center, the Riddler was on the rise.

* * *

"Where's my pillow?"

Bruce blinked, rubbing his eyes.

"Check the floor. I think poor Vikki got tired of your horrible sleepy time kisses."

He could hear Joe bury a snort in his comforter. "Not funny, Bruce."

"Your snicker says otherwise."

The eight year old sat up, slipping out of bed and straightening the covers. He'd been told he'd have to clean up after himself, and once again he was reminded of the fact that his parents had forced him to come here. He missed Alfred. He missed his mom. He missed his dad. He missed his home.

"Seriously. Where'd my pillow go? It's memory foam, to help my neck."

It must have been Bruce's imagination, but Joe was actually sounding panicked. He didn't claim to know Joe all that well, but he did know that the kid needed his help. Yesterday, they'd become fast friends; and despite having very little experience around kids his own age, he knew friends helped each other out. Every one else was already up and gone, aside from Jason, who once again sat on his bed without paying them any mind.

"Hey Jace, you seen my pillow?" Jason didn't so much as twitch a glance in Joe's direction. While that would have been enough to deter most rambunctious kiddos, the green haired menace was persistent. "Yoohoo, Jason..." Joe waved an open palm in front of his face, earning an irritated growl. The seven year old tore an ear bud out and glared at the supervillain wannabe.

" _What_?"

"My pillow."

"I didn't touch your freaking pillow, kid."

"Kid! You're what, a month older than me?"

Jason made a show of shoving his ear bud back in, hunkering down and pointedly glancing at his screen.

"Hey, Joe. A ransom note."

Bruce was perched by the door, eyes narrowed at a piece of torn off notebook paper that someone had lazily taped under the window. Plucking it off between two fingers, Bruce held it up with narrowed eyes.

"What does it say?"

"To the Batman of the... G tripple C?"

"Gotham Children's Cancer Center."

"Right. To the Batman of the G triple C. Soft and plump, I’ll be right here. Throughout your dreams, you’ll keep me near. I’ll keep you comfy all through the night, and you’ll leave me here in the morning light. -" Bruce stopped reading. "That's probably your pillow he's talking about." Then he continued. "But alas. Someone has taken me! Within twenty four hours, I'll be fed a to a hoard of explosive penguins! To save me, all you have to do is solve this one measly riddle... They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they? I sincerely hope you save Ms. Vale. It'd be a shame for such beauty to face the curtain call tonight! Yours truly - Riddler."

Joe rolled his eyes as far back as humanly possible, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Someone needs to give him a crash course on writing half way decent ransom notes.

Bruce smirked at him, crossing his scrawny arms. "Says the guy who wanted to gas a pillow with imaginary laughing gas."

"Yeah yeah. Let's get ready for the morning while we try to figure out this riddle."

"Oh I already figured it out." Bruce replied, balling the paper up and tossing it over his shoulder into the trash bin. "Gloves."

* * *

"So the answer to the riddle is a glove?" Joe asked around a mouthful of oatmeal. Bruce shook his head, taking a long chug of milk. They were sitting by themselves at the table in the far corner of the room.

"Gloves plural."

"Huh... That's not much to go on."

"Sure it is." Bruce replied casually. "I'm sure the nurses keep their supplies somewhere. That must include gloves and masks."

A sparkling glimmer of hope crossed Joe's face as he smiled. "Of course!" He seemed to contemplate the feat ahead of them, face falling at a grim revelation. "But we're not allowed in there."

"Vigilantes aren't always allowed in places they need to go. Don't worry Joe, I'll rescue your pillow... I just need my cape."

* * *

With Joe's direction, Bruce found the nurse's supply closet. There were two problems. The first was that it was off limits, and the second was that it was in the hallway that was off limits. The girl's hallway. It was a double whammy if he- son of Thomas Wayne- was found in the girl's section of the building. Every tabloid and newspaper would be throwing out fiery reports about Bruce Wayne being an eight year old pervert.

For a moment, it made him wonder if this was all worth it. This was a charade, a game. He could easily talk to Eddy and ask him to get the pillow back, refuse to break the rules... but then he remembered the hope in Joe's eyes. And he couldn't do that. The Batman would save reporter Vikki Vale, Joe's precious memory foam pillow.

Sneaking past the nurses was easy enough, he'd caused a crash of glasses and plates in the cafeteria which drew the attention of the guard watching the door. A quick inspection of the door revealed that it was locked tight. He needed to bypass the lock. But how? He glanced down the hallway and spotted the door to the girl's dorm. It was a long shot, but someone was bound to still have enough hair for a bobby pin.

"Whatch'ya you doin' here?" Bruce sucked in a breath and turned to see a nine year old with cropped blond hair staring down at him.

"Harleen... right?"

"Yup. Call me Harley."

"Well I..." It took all of thirty seconds to belch out an explanation to the situation. Her lips pursed thoughtfully as she produced a bobby pin from the golden hair behind her left ear.

"I'll cover ya."

"Thanks, Harley."

"Anything for Joe... or Joker?"

Bruce smirked at her.

"Maybe he needs a sidekick."

Bruce began working on the lock, nodding thoughtfully. If his parents knew he could pick locks, he'd be grounded for life. No screw that. If they found out he _had_ picked a lock, he'd be grounded for all eternity. He thought over Harley's comment again. More and more people were embroiling themselves in this fictional little make believe game... probably out of that boredom Joe had mentioned. "That'd be an interesting twist."

"Whad'ya call this game?"

"Haven't named it."

"Oh, gotcha."

The door clicked, and Bruce handed Harley her bobby pin back. A gust of cold air surged from the closet when he shoved the door on, and blindly he groped for the light switch. He heard Harley squeak and felt hands shove him forward. The lights went back out and the door slammed shut. Bruce scrambled for his way out, grabbing at the handle and jerking it.

With a sinking heart Bruce took a moment to debate just how screwed he really was. The door handle jiggled fruitlessly.

_locked._

**Author's Note:**

> This has been nagging on me for a while now. It was sort of inspired by a star gate episode where a main character woke up in a mental institute only to be told that every adventure she'd ever lived out in space was fake. This is isn't to that extreme, but I tried to imagine the events of Batman from a child's perspective. This will be a five shot and include many of the Batman characters we know and love! So stay tuned.


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